


Visits

by PacketofRedApples



Category: Alan Wake (Video Game)
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Crack, Other, absurdity, annoyed at first sight, this is poorly written i should have slept instead
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-04
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2019-06-21 16:19:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15561666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PacketofRedApples/pseuds/PacketofRedApples
Summary: Scratch is like a stray cat that just keeps coming back.





	Visits

**Author's Note:**

> I stole the actually funny jokes from [necronism](https://archiveofourown.org/users/necronism/pseuds/necronism) when we were talking on twitter. Sorry... I'm a fraud.

It’s late evening and I am just thinking of going to sleep, desperately trying to, but it’s difficult. I lay in bed, tossing and turning for two good hours or so, glancing at the clock on my phone. I got things to do tomorrow, so if sleep was so kind as to actually come—it’d be great. Yeah. And it feels like I’m actually finally snoozing off when I hear a loud metallic pang outside my window.

Someone was in my backyard. I sigh, putting a pillow over my face and trying to mute out the continuous similar noises that follow after the first. It’s probably a raccoon. Dammit... and whatever that thing is looking for, he’s relentless. I’m not exactly all that macho, really… But it got on my nerves. The pillow wasn’t helping. I thought it’d be easiest just to go scare that thing away before my entire backyard is covered in garbage. Sliding my feet off the bed as I slowly sit up, my head feels dizzy momentarily. I sit there for a couple minutes, tired but reminding myself that if I don’t shoo that thing away—I won’t get any sleep at all.

When I got downstairs, I slipped into a pair of shoes, found where I had discarded the flashlight last (thankfully) and took a broom with me in case that thing was hostile. Which, let’s be real—it might have been with the amount of sound it was making. I had assumed it was a large raccoon, which I suppose is what I got…

I opened the back door directing the light from my torch at the can and saw some random suited dude digging through my trash. He looked equally surprised to see me. Obviously disturbed by this, I shine him straight in the face without realizing it. He hissed, curling up and covering his eyes.

Assuming he was just some random drunk, so I weighed my options. Calling the police was an idea, but then I’d have to hope he won’t run away and if he does, what the hell do I do then? Also—I didn’t want to deal with the police. Hoping to somehow solve this diplomatically, I redirected the light lower to the ground, where it shone between us.

“Can you go home?” I ask, without a stutter, even if anxious. This was a troublesome situation to be in and I wasn’t enjoying it. He looked at me with narrowed eyes as I did at him.

“No.”

“What are you doing in the garbage can?” To say I was confused would have been an understatement.

He straightened up slowly and I tensed up. The guy must have been like six feet tall. He didn’t look tremendously in shape, but he looked like he had worked out in some point in his life. I worried he might try to overpower me or something. Drunks are not to be trusted. Especially those you find rummaging through your trash.

I squeeze the broom handle, prepared to beat him over the head with it.  But I don’t need to, as when I once again aim the light at his face he hisses once more and turns away. This time I don’t avert the intensity of it.

“Get the hell out of my yard.” I say. “Or I am going to beat you senseless with this broom.” The first real threat I ever offered and he didn’t even look at me. However, even with the screwed shut eyes and turned away, he looked oddly familiar. But I honestly couldn’t place it.

“Fine, fine, just turn off the light.” He mutters backs. I think about how well this turned out and I am ready to watch him leave through climbing the fence—as I must admit that’s probably how he got here—but he stands there, glaring at me. The hell—

“Now! Get out!” I spat soon after, no questions asked. He sighs defeated and begins doing this weird white person jog to the fence and trying to jump up enough to get himself over it. It’s actually a pathetic sight.

After watching him lamely try this several time until he finally succeeded, I went back into my house and locked the windows and doors good. Falling into my bed around twenty minutes later, I feel too much of an adrenaline rush to fall asleep. I end up giving up and watching youtube on my phone till I pass out. But my sleep doesn’t last long,

It’s like I have a rooster as a pet now, or so it feels. I awoke in the early morning due to somebody yelling “Fuck off!” very loudly in my yard. The voice – familiar. The weirdo’s back? I jumped off the bed and dashed to my window, opening it and looking down.

“Get the fuck out of my yard or I’ll call the cops!” I yell at the same suited asshole.

“You can’t tell me what to do.” The fuck?

We probably spend a minute or so staring at each other before one of my housemates, Matt, walks into my room. Half asleep still but looking pissed off. It’s his day off from work and of course, he’s not happy being awoken in the morning as the sun rises by some bizarre guy invading our yard.

“Why the hell are you yelling?” So, of course, I explain, deadpan by just pointing out. My housemate approaches and glances out the window, seeing him and instantly growing concerned.

“We should call the cops.”

“Don’t call the cops!” He yells back from below.  

“Then why are you standing in our yard, yelling ‘fuck off’?” It’s a legitimate question and I was concerned. More so for my safety. The guy pointed at the sun, hanging low in the sky so far. Confused the hell out of me.  

“I hate it. How do I turn it off? It’s too bright.” Now, I just sat there, staring blankly from the pure unbelievability of this situation. It was asinine.

“Are you okay? Did you hit your head someplace? Do we need to take you to the hospital?” I offered, slightly concerned.

“What?” He replied, seeming genuinely confused. I looked at my housemate and we both had similar concerned expressions, it seems.

In about 10 minutes time, we were all three sitting in the kitchen table, hoping our landlord won’t find out we let a potentially dangerous stranger into our home. Sure, he was handsome, but the asshole needed to shave and shower it seems. Also, he looked really freaking pale. I hated to admit it, but suppose being a decent human being; I worried about the guy dying from a heat stroke out there, wearing all black and what not. He didn’t seem like he went out into the sun a lot and but his reaction to it was...odd.

“Nice place you have here.” He breaks the silence and my train of thought. I blink at him. “Lots of geek shit.”

“Thanks?” It’s good that Matt answered, yet bad that then he glanced at me as if urging to say something.

“What’s your name? Where are you from?” I ask, trying to understand how to get him back to his home or the place he stayed at or something. I notice he has very bright blue eyes. Didn’t see that in the dark, did I? Never been much of a sucker for blue eyes, but it worked on him.

“I’m from Bright Falls and my name is Mr. Scratch.” He says, voice distorting as he spoke his name. Both I and Matt are frightened by this so no surprise we end up ill at ease.

“How did you do that?”

“Do what?”

All right, well…

“Do you have family here? Were you visiting?” I continue, trying to plan how to get rid of him as soon as possible. The faster he stops showing up in my yard, the better.

“No, can’t say I do. But I do live with Alan, right now.”

“Alan?”

“Yeah, Wake’s an asshole.”

And then it clicked. The guy looked exactly like that famous writer who kept getting into trouble! The plot thickens.

“Dude, can we help you get back home?” Matt spoke, trying to rush this along. The stranger shrugs. I say, stranger, because I definitely am not going to even try to think about pronouncing his name.

“Can we at least convince you to shower?” I end up saying. It seemed like a good start because sitting next to him at the table I could smell his night’s rendezvous with our garbage can. “I’ll lend you some of my clothes; I mostly wear baggy ones so maybe something will fit you.” See? I am an A-class citizen, helping the ones in need.

However, he looked me over with a blank stare.

“A what now?

…He couldn’t be serious, could he?

* * *

 

I looked through my closet after explaining to him how the shower worked. He seemed skeptical of it all and I had to make sure he will actually go in, by waiting outside the door.  It even took a bit to make him take off at least some of his clothes. I told him I’ll take care of it and he just eyed me.

Thankfully, I manage to strip him down to his boxer briefs and I collected all his clothes, taking them outside. This seems like something that has to be dry-cleaned or some expensive shit I can’t afford. How does a man, wearing an outfit this expensive, end up in your trash?

Okay, so I rolled my eyes and after some consideration, I threw them in my laundry basket. I’ll take care of it later.

So I was rummaging my closet and I pulled out an oversized band t-shirt I felt okay with parting and a pair of sweatpants that would fit pretty much anyone. The guy has no ass or thighs – it’ll do. I come back to wait outside the bathroom door, clothes in arms.

I hoped he was using all that god damn shampoo and body wash I offered him.

He opens the door, back in his shorts and soaked and I sort of freeze up there.

“Um, put this on.” I say as I shove the clothes into his chest. He looks down and nods. He slips into the pants first and they are a tight fit but they fit well enough. As for the t-shirt, it’s perfect. He reads the name of the band with a serious amount of struggle, however. I leave him upstairs once he is dressed and go down to the other occupants of the house as Jamie had just returned. But he followed.

So…

I, Matt and Jamie are sitting in the dining room as our current guest was going through our kitchen, looking for something…probably alcohol. Too bad for him, we hid it well.

Jamie is a little pissed at the two of us, but we explained the situation. If the guy got some sort of trauma and he really was the famous writer, he was really going through some messed up stuff.

“I did some searching, the guy is still married. Not divorced, his wife should be looking for him, especially if he has a reason to believe he is hurt.” Matt said, logically enough. We agreed, looking forward to somehow contacting her. With some keywords, we easily found Alice’s business email. Which was heaven sent and we wrote her a message.

Several hours and no reply later, we accidentally left the guy unsupervised for what seems like just a minute but he is gone and so is the suit from the laundry basket.

Which really isn’t good.

Alice doesn’t reply at all. And it’s evening by the time I’m walking home from the store. It’s a nice evening. All is well with the world, ignoring recent events. I’m feeling some sense of inner calm… But when approaching my house, I spot a figure dressed in black throwing something at my house. Rocks? They’re bouncing off my windows! What an asshole. It doesn’t take me long to come over to the figure and give them a piece of my mind.

And of course, it’s him again.

“Why are you back!?” I say in a slightly raised voice, despite myself, however, I am just more off-thrown than I am angry. This man was like a fucking cat; he came and went as he wanted. However, at this time he picked up a larger rock and I am legitimately concerned he will break my window.

“I’m trying to destroy that shinning bitch.”

I follow his gaze and it’s fixed on my porch light. Why. It’ll cost us to replace it, and I don’t mean just money. Our landlord will probably lose his shit at us if we get it broken. I want no part of it.

“Don’t do it—“Too late, the bastard just did it. But his aim is the worst thing I’ve ever seen, the rock hits the window and this time successfully falls through. I look him dead in the eyes as he turns around to face me. “I hate you.”


End file.
